It starts immediately after the battle.
Makkari runs up to him, like she always does, and Druig curls a strand of hair back behind her ear.
Did you see the way the Deviant flopped over? she signs, a light of excitement in her eyes.
“I saw it,” Druig speaks and signs, playfully rolling his eyes before nodding over her shoulder. “And it seems as though some others did as well.”
A small crowd has gathered near the gates of the city. Some townspeople look nervous, but most are in awe.
Druig hopes he hides his admiration for Makkari better than some of the blatant stares thrown her way.
Makkari turns and her face becomes one of genuine surprise.
He assumes she will go to them, maybe walk through the crowd like a king, but her head turns to look back at him.
A feeling of shame washes over Druig for forgetting that Makkari is so fundamentally good, she would never leave him behind like he always half-expects her too. Who would want to stick around the quiet mind manipulator? His beautiful Makkari, that’s who.
Come celebrate with me, she coaxes, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.
Druig allows her to.
--- that evening
Why did he expect this party to be different?
Druig is stood in his best robes in a shadow in the garden outside the large gathering room.
The sun is going down and Druig feels silly, brooding like a child under the pillar.
As much as he pretends, Makkari is not his. She never will be. And it hurts, to watch all the people all praise her for saving them, gazing at her like she is the only thing in the world.
They don’t know her, not like Druig does. They don’t understand that Makkari is the only thing in his world. The only thing that he cares about, anyway. And yet they touch her arms and offer her food like she is a god. She should be worshipped as one. But not for the reasons they think.
She should be worshipped because here she comes, zipping out the back doors to look for Druig because she is just so nice.
Makkari is in front of him, her arms crossed but her eyes soft. Druig, why did you leave? she signs, curiosity bleeding through the motion.
He can’t tell her the truth. That all he wants is to stay at a party for once, brush her waist, pull her close. His Makkari. His beautiful, beautiful Makkari.
But she is only tolerating him because he is careful and she is kind and patient and she befriends people who don’t deserve kindness or patience or friendship.
Be impulsive, and Makkari’s gone. Just a blur of energy on the horizon.
“I needed air,” is what he ends up replying. Druig doesn’t meet her eyes. The sight of them would only push him to make a rash decision.
Bullshit, she signs, pressing closer. What’s wrong? You can talk to me.
He looks up now, but stares over her shoulder. “I’m fine, just tired, I think I will head to bed. You should go back to the party.”
Makkari is shaking her head before he even finishes. I’ll go back with you. I’m not leaving you alone like this.
She is too caring: it makes it hard for Druig to distance himself.
“Alright, but we should go back to the party,” he relents. There’s no way he is letting her miss out on the party in her honor.
Makkari beams and hooks her arm through his to lead him back through the doors.
--- even later that evening
Okay, so maybe Druig has been glaring at anyone who comes near Makkari.
He can’t help it, being this close to her is intoxicating. He’s gotten a taste of him being hers, and he likes it.
Her hand is still resting on the inside of his forearm, threaded around him like they are the same entity.
At least Makkari has not noticed him throwing daggers, well, she’s not said anything.
She looks up at him every so often, after conversations with citizens that become mysteriously short after glancing at the man on her arm. Each time Makkari glances and notices his frown, she walks him to the table of food, pats his cheek, and once he’s opened obediently, pops in little treats.
It makes him smile, the way she so readily helps him, but the grin always dims after remembering that she readily helps everyone.
It stings him however, that she sticks with him out of pity and obligation.
And so by the time they’ve repeated the cycle several times (smitten, heartbreak, food, smile, repeat) over the duration of the party, Druig is done with the emotional rollercoaster.
“Makkari,” he gently extracts himself from her grasp, “I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He doesn’t stick around. She could catch up in no time, but not at risk of panicking the partygoers.
Before he knows it, Druig is laying flat on the covers of his bed in the inn where they are staying. Sersi had produced gold to pay them, but most of the group felt weird buying anything luxurious.
So the bed is hard, the room is cramped, and the ceiling feels like it is pressing down on him. Druig stands back up and leaves the inn actually for fresh air this time.
Makkari catches up to him.
She runs up, stopping by his side where he is looking out at the darkened sky.
After a minute of silence, she nudges him to get his attention before signing, Someone asked for my hand in marriage after you left.
It was obviously meant to break the tension, based on the twinkle in her eye, but it does the opposite.
Druig stiffens. “And you said?”
Makkari peers at him. I declined. Obviously. I’m in love with you.
Druig feels a surge of relief that she said no (he wouldn’t be able to take watching her with someone else) before he whips around to face her full on, “What’d you say?”
Amusement flickers over her face. I’m in love with you, idiot.
Druig feels like his world is upside down, heart pounding, hands sweating and shaking through the signs. “You mean it?”
Makkari doesn’t answer, just intertwines her fingers behind his neck and presses a firm kiss to his lips, pulling away before he has a chance to return it.
“You mean it.” he gasps, pressing the words into her head with his power because his hands are busy winding around her waist, and then they are kissing.
Later, there will be time to confess insecurities in the dark, hold hands under the rising sun, explore how they can communicate with their minds, and of course, flirt in front of their friends.
Now is just them.